


The Start of Everything

by TherealKyena



Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TherealKyena/pseuds/TherealKyena





	The Start of Everything

Zaea’s sides heaved under Tor’landa’s legs as they flew past the trees. Loryss’ breath was hot against her back. The saber must have been a hair’s breadth away from her own. Tor’landa could almost see Cymaldor in her mind’s eye, leaning over Loryss’ neck, nearly death gripping the poor beast, still covered in gore and blood from their escape.

Jaisia’s wolf let out a low rumble, throwing her head to look behind.

Zaea fell from under Tor’landa’s legs, throwing her as she rolled end over end to slam into a pine. Tor'landa did much the same but she ripped Jai'alator from its sheath as she righted herself. Her shield came up as she scanned the forest for any signs of their attackers. Cries seemed to come from all around them.

She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t let Zaea’s pained cries take her out of the rush of adrenaline.

Instead, she saw Cymaldor as he wheeled Loryss around. He had just begun to reach for Tor’s outstretched hand when their attackers finally made their appearance.

The crackle of arcane made Tor’landa duck. The arcane bolt missed her head by mere inches before it shattered and splintered apart the bark of a nearby pine. Her shield blocked a blow from one of the city guards that had been hot on their heels ever since they escaped from Zin’Azshari. Jai’alator gave him a swipe, though it found no flesh to bite into, instead it dinged off the plate with a hollow metallic scraping sound that echoed through the woods. Perhaps even the sound of tearing cloth as she did so, shearing through the Eye of Azshara that was emblazoned on his tunic. Azshara’s ever watchful sigil.

With her shield, she shoved the guard to the ground, snarling the whole time. It gave her a little reprieve, to see how many there were.

She counted a group of six. Four heavily armored city guards and two Moon Guard. A skilled group. She threw herself around the backside of the tree and slammed her back against it. She saw a flash of Loryss’ shining silver coat come charging past her, with Cymaldor’s long silver hair waving behind him like a banner. It must have come out of the braids that she’d put it in long before any of this. 

How happily they all rode off to Zin’Azshari. How hopeful. They were going to change the world for the better. To expose Azshara.

She came from behind the tree and took in the scene again.

Zaea let out a wheeze and stood beside her rider. Whatever spell they’d flung at her had done a number on the saber. That or the roll.

“ _ Cymaldor! Jaisia! The mages! Get the mages!” _ She deflected a blow from one of the guards. 

_ Block. Throw your shield in front of your face. Swing. Parry. Fence. Use that big sword to your advantage, Tor’landa. You have a daughter to come home to. _

The short-lived battle was a blur in Tor’s eyes. Much like the thousands of others she’d been in. A rush. Small details pushed aside.

They weren’t going to win. There were too many.

Jaisia shot a glance to Tor'landa and shook her head. “I hope this plan of yours works, Shan'do. To let our deaths mean something.”

Tor'landa straightened with a grimace and faced the last Moon Guard. If they could kill the mages they might stand a chance.

“What’s wrong, Night Warrior? Can’t win this fight?” A familiar voice called through her haze. 

“Deliha?”

She sighed and readied her deadly looking mace. “The Silverblades send their regards, along with Queen Azshara.” She pointed at Cymaldor with her mace. “Kill him first. Lucky that we got that archer to begin with.”

_ Fire. _ Her mind roared at her.  _ Douse them with that magic you have, Tor’landa. _

No longer did she have to scream out the words. The magic did the work. All she had to do was imagine it now. There was many a reason why she was called a dragon.

It lit up her chest like she had swallowed coals. Her eyes shifted to the bright red of her dragon, though she felt Nyreen far away from her with her own queen. Dragonfire filled the trees, licking up their trunks, popping the needles from the branches. It bathed over three of the city guard, over the last Moon Guard. She let her anger leech into her spellwork. She let her frustration and her disappointment heat it until it burned hot as the sun. Until the soldiers and trees and grasses turned to ash in her wake. She had tried. She’d tried so hard to do the right thing and she had  _ failed _ .

Failed herself. Failed her daughter. Her sister. Everyone.

Cymaldor’s anguished cry tamped out her fire, sending it guttering back down her throat. He gurgled as Tor’landa watched the last remaining city guard slowly shove his sword through the gap between the pauldron and the chest plate. Jaisia’s sword. The seals of both the combined Moonblade and Stormbow, along with the seal of the Silverblades were covered in lilac.

“ _ No!” _ Tor’landa screamed as she marched toward the soldier. “I’ll kill you-”

She let out a hiss as she was struck in the back with what felt like a boulder. It sent her stumbling a step or two. 

“Let’s finish this,  _ Shan’do. _ ” Deliha’s voice grated against her ears.

Tor’landa whipped herself around and shot Deliha a glare full of hatred. Looking between each of the attackers with her lip curled, she spat at them, “Let’s get this over with.”

The city guard struck first. Jaisia’s sword led to stab. Typical. Everyone thought that they had to fence with Cortana. She dodged it easily enough, her shield guarding her left side, the side that Deliha came from. 

She locked her arms around the blade as it scrapped between her right arm and her back, scratching the plate. She threw her arms forward, grinning like a madwoman when she felt it shatter against the plate covering her back. Jaisia’s sword laid in pieces behind her, and that left one weaponless and still in Tor’s grasp, pinned within her elbow. She stared him in the eye as she spoke, low and dangerous. “ _ You’re going to die here. _ ” And she bore her teeth at him, hissing.

She tore out his throat. Relished in the spray of blood. Watched him fall.

And turned just in time to see Deliha bringing her mace in an arc towards her.

Tor threw up her shield and gasped at the metallic wrenching sound that came from it. Deliha tried to no avail to tear her heavy mace from the shield. It was stuck fast. She snarled at Tor and slammed the shield downwards with her hands, making it sink into the earth, dragging Tor with it.

Tor glared up at Deliha. The girl she’d let into her home. The girl she’d trained under herself. Her squire. Student. She glared up into those silvered eyes, full of hate at her teacher, and spat at her. “Deliha Moonsinger.”

“Tor’landa Moonblade.” She looked unflinching at Tor’landa. Deliha appeared almost...bored. Like this was nothing.

She snarled and threw her weight at Deliha’s stomach, tackling her to the ground. Jai’alator raised above her head to jam through Deliha’s smirking face.

Deliha braced her hands against Tor’s arms. It was the first time she looked genuinely panicked staring down the length of Jai’alator, up to Tor’landa’s snarling face, her bleeding lips drawn back over her teeth. Bruises and cuts covered her. Her whole body felt as if it had gone through the gauntlet.

She snarled and let go of Tor’s hands. As she did so, she twisted underneath her, using momentum to push Tor’s hands from Jai’alator as it sank into the ground, the blade missing her by mere inches. She made them roll and roll before Deliha threw Tor’landa aside with a kick.

Deliha looked between Tor and Jai’alator. Back and forth. Neither daring to move. If Deliha got their first, Tor was dead. If Tor got her sword back, Deliha was done for. Zin’Azshari would have been done for. Tor’landa and Nyreenastrasza would have flown to the city and doused the palace in dragonfire. With the armies of the Moonblades at her back.

Deliha rolled towards the blade, just too fast for a weakened Tor’landa to catch her.

The blade carved a path of fire across her face. It made Tor let out a hoarse scream. She’d been cut plenty of times in battle, gained a few scars on her body, but never her face. She’d always been able to keep her helmet on. This turned her face into a slick mess, sending stinging salt into her eyes, her nose, her mouth.

She played with her first. Throwing her around. “You should never have been considered Highborne.” Her voice was flat. “This all could have been avoided, Tor’landa. Noble, noble Tor’landa. Too good for sense. Don’t you understand? This isn’t about honor. Nor pride. This is about power. And Azshara has that power.”

Tor’landa snickered and wheezed. Spat out a wad of blood-filled spit. “What makes you think you’re one of them, Deliha?” She sucked in another painful breath. Her ribs had to be broken. “They’re using you. They’ll keep using you until you’re dead. You don’t have to do this, Del.”

“ _ No!” _ The word echoed through the forest, sending the birds to flight once more. It was almost as if Deliha had to convince herself as she carried on a split second later. “See, I’ve taken everything from you, Tor’landa. And you tend to come back with a vengeance. I’m ending this.” She sounded weary. Oh so weary.

“Then you are lost, Deliha.” Tor’landa said simply with her heart hardening in her chest. “And you will bear a curse upon your name. Know that there will come a day when your world comes crashing around you. When armies march for your doorstep and take everything you hold dear. Then you will know of my wrath.”

“We shall see, Shan’do.”

The blade cut a burning strip through Tor’s chest. Through her heart. Her lungs. She heard the grinding of metal against metal when Deliha punched the sword through the top of the chest plate, in between the joint of the gorget and the chest piece.

_ Ay’hrae... _


End file.
